Catching My Breath, Letting It Go
by TheKoganKid
Summary: Sam sometimes wondered if Dean found it funny when he couldn't breathe and was put at risk of passing out and dying. Dean wondered the same in return. Or, the five times Sam and Dean are left breathless, and the one time they can breathe again.


_**This is my first Supernatural fanfiction, so please don't shank me if I get some stuff wrong ^_^ I'm only just starting (I'm ashamed because this show is the best okay) and I'm only on season three. So bare with me and this cliche piece of crap. **_

_**xXxXxXx **_

**1. **

Sam had been at this job for so, so damn long that he really should have a better tolerance for lack of sleep. But he'd been having a lack of sleep for nearly two weeks now, and all of the insomnia and coffee runs were starting to catch up to him. But he'd been trying to keep his eyes open in vain all night, if only to make sure that Dean doesn't do something completely and totally moronic, as he usually does when Sam's not paying attention to him close enough.

But it was beginning to become a hard job, his eyes stinging and watering and drifting shut, and suddenly all Sam wanted to do was curl up into a ball behind Dean's warm body and sleep for a long, long time.

And he'd been about to give into it, too, against his better judgement, when a loud howling sound ripped through the silence of the forest and he sat up straight again, snuffling and wide-eyed. Dean laughed at him, silently but mocking nonetheless, and it was all Sam could do to keep himself from decking his brother right in the hollow of his cheek.

"You look like a kid who's trying to stay up and catch the Tooth Fairy, Sammy."

Sam was unamused, and only frowned in response to Dean's jab at his exhaustion.

The elder brother laughed quietly again, and reaching around to squeeze Sam's thigh, he grinned brightly and it almost blinded Sam.

"We're almost done here- then we can go back to the motel and I'll fix you up some Chamomile. How's that sound?"

Sam was still staring at Dean's gleaming teeth, and his dimpled cheeks, and he couldn't reply because the sight of the other's smile had taken his breath away. So instead he nodded, clearing his throat, and he tried to look past the dizzying stars in his eyes.

Dean seemed not to notice, though, and turned back to look at the house they'd been scoping for the past six hours without a break. He stared at the back of his brother's head, starstruck and wheezing for air through his nose.

And the sad thing was, Dean probably knew what his grin did to Sam, and he enjoyed it more than anything. That thought sent Sam back into his previously sulky mood, and he hunkered down in his jacket and the leaf pile to continue watching the house.

Goddamn Dean and his goddamn perfect smile.

**2. **

Dean had a problem with sitting still. He was very, _very _bad with it, and boredom in general, and the only way someone could get him to stop moving was if they knocked him out cold, or they put a gun to someone else's head. And even then sometimes he couldn't stop the jumping of his fingers and the twitching of his legs.

Right now, he was even more restless than usual because he'd been in the Impala for nearly twelve hours and had consumed a lot of coffee. He loved his baby to pieces, but Sam usual sat shotgun and shotgun got more legroom than the driver did.

And at the moment Dean felt kind of like one of those practical joke snake things that were bunched up in a can, awaiting the gumbee who was dumb enough to open the peanuts and get a faceful of springs and fabric.

But Sam was oblivious to his discomfort, or maybe uncaring, and he continued to look over the map in his exceedingly large hands and hum to himself as though he were looking over the dinner menu at a fancy-ass restaurant. Dean was one more round of _Twist And Shout _away from screaming and saying 'Let's just wing it and follow the road until we come up someplace that occupied with someone else besides you and me.'

"Hey, I think I figured out where we are." Sam said after what felt like an entire eon of silence broken only by his harmonious humming. He leaned over and used his index finger to point at some place on the paper map. "We're right by Oakland, some cramped town in the middle of Ohio."

"Thank God." Dean mumbled, practically twisting the key all the way around in a hurry to start the car. "I thought I was going to lose my friggin mind."

"Hey, just a sec." Sam insisted quietly, and Dean was going to protest any further delays, but the younger was already moving towards him. Dean watched as he reached over to pick at something on Dean's door, his side pressed up against Dean's, and the driver of the Impala had to bite his tongue in order to conceal his gasp for air. His nose was invaded by the rich, sweet smell of Sam- his shampoo, soap, collongue, the works- and suddenly his vacant brain was swimming with many indistinguishable emotions and the ever persistent arousal.

"Got it." Sam chuckled, leaning back over in his spot. The whole thing couldn't have lasted for more than ten seconds, but Dean doubted that he could drive straight now. "There was something stuck to the door and it was bugging me."

Dean coughed, suddenly glad for the darkness as Sam clicked the flashlight off, because it concealed his red cheeks and tight jeans. "You and your OCD, Sammy."

**3. **

Rolling over in bed, Dean grumbled out a string of swear words as he reached up to scrub his aching eyes. For reasons unbeknownst to him, he'd just woken up out of a dead sleep, and the exhaustion still buried in his bones was as angry as he was. Squinting over at the clock, he saw that it was only three in the morning, and suddenly he wanted to chuck the damn thing out of the window.

_Why_. It had been his first good sleep for nearly a week now.

Sighing, and pinching the bridge of his nose to prevent himself from throwing a grown-adult temper tantrum, Dean bounced around until he was facing the other side of his bed, back to the alarm clock and door, and his cheek against a cooler part of his pillow. Maybe if he tried really, really hard, he could go back to sleep and get a few more hours in before Sam got up and they'd have to split.

Apparently, though, his brother was very, _very _set on not letting Dean get back to bed. Because when Dean opened his eyes to look over at Sam for assurance, the brunette was much closer than Dean had first predicted.

So close, in fact, that if Dean wanted to, he could reach out and slap Sam upside the head for scaring him half to death. The latter of the two was in Dean's bed, not his own, curled up on a pillow and tucked beneath the covers like it was something he was used to. Dean hadn't even been aware that there was another person in his bed, which is probably why it had scared him so much. And left him croaking like a fish out of water, his indraw of breath echoing in the small motel room.

"Jesus Christ, Sam." he hissed into the dark, punching his brother lightly in the side. "What the hell?"

Sam mumbled some incoherency into his pillow, snorting lightly, but he didn't awake like Dean had. So Dean tweaked his nose, patted his cheek, and clapped him on the shoulder- anything he could to wake up his ridiculous little brother for scaring the shit out of him.

Finally, Sam blinked up at him tiredly, crankiness evident.

_"What?" _he all but snarled at Dean.

"I wouldn't be the bitchy one right now, Princess." Dean told him. "What are you doing in my bed, dude?"

"I had a nightmare." Sam was already going back to sleep, settling down into his pillow and drawing the blankets closer around him.

"You could have just woken me up, Sammy- you didn't have to sneak over into my bed and make me crap myself at three in the morning."

"Didn't want to upset you." Sam mumbled. "And you're warm."

Dean didn't have time to say something back, because with Sam spitting out something about monsters hiding under his bed and yawning, he was back to snoring away lightly with the conversation feeling as though it had never happened.

Feeling warm all over, like drinking hot chocolate in the winter time, Dean stayed awake only five more minutes to stare at Sam in wonder, and amusement, before he decided that yeah, he was going back to sleep. And if he curled up to Sam like Sam had curled up to him, well, the heater was being to putter out was all.

**4. **

Sam was pretty sure that he was sick of the smell of cheap booze, and cigarette smoke, and overpowering clouds of perfume choking him out every time he shifted in his seat.

No, fuck that- Sam was a hundred and ten percent sure that he was done with going to bars and sitting in the corner like a bump on a log, looking and feeling incredibly awkward. He knew that yeah, sometimes Dean actually wanted to somewhat earn his own money, but _god _he was sick of staying up until the asscrack of dawn, watching Dean hustle people in pool and cheat them in poker.

Oh- and he was especially sick of watching girls drape themselves all over Dean as though they were his mink coat.

Yeah. He could most definitely never see _that _again and be okay with getting on with his life.

He was just glad that the girl who'd decided to be Dean's shadow that night was blonde, and not a brunette; Dean could deny it all he wanted, or say that he really didn't have a preference, but Sam knew that Dean had a certain liking for brunettes more than he knew the different remedies for getting rid of the evil creatures they hunted. Sometimes he felt like pushing the blondies aside and sticking his head in their faces, exclaiming Dean's liking for him to be better based only on his hair coloring. And then in his fantasy he proceeded to lay Dean down on the pool table and kiss him everywhere. Right in front of the girl, the guy he was hustling- _everyone_.

The sound of a ball plunking down into a pocket brought Sam out of his head and taking another moody swig of beer, he watched as Dean continued to play the game, looking ridiculously suave leaning against the pool stick for support.

Just as Sam knew he would, Dean ended up winning the game and rounded up a wad of cash, the guy he had beat looking miffed and the nameless girl looking delighted for him. Sam saw rather than heard her gushing about his victory, and then Dean grinned his grin at her, and that was all it took. Suddenly she was on him, like a jaguar taking down its prey, and they were making out heavily against the pool table. Sam choked on his drink, his chest aching not only from the lack of air he was receiving in his shock, and he watched as Dean kissed the blonde girl back with just as much vigor in horror.

Well, that only lasted about a minute. Then Sam regained his wits, and with his eyes stinging vaguely, he abandoned his warm beer in favor of waiting out in the Impala for Dean to... Finish.

He put on what he thought was a very convincing look of indifference when Dean finally came out, hair disheveled and his lips stretched out in a smirk.

**5. **

It turned out that Sam's indifference look was complete shit when he was upset, becasue Dean had noticed it right away when getting into the car. He'd pestered Sam about it all the way back to the motel, taking his eyes off of the road more than Sam would have liked, but he kept on denying that anything was wrong. He was just tired, and sick of smelling like a hybrid pack of _Bud Lite _and _Marlboros_.

_I'm fine Dean, Jesus, _was the last lie he told that night when walking through the motel door, throwing his jacket onto the bed with irritation fueling the force behind it. Dean had told him to cut the bullshit, and when asked if it was because Sam had liked the blonde girl that had been kissing Dean, Sam just exploded.

He let everything pour of him like water onto concrete, and when all was said and done, Sam was kind of happy that his chest didn't feel like Lofty from _Bob The Builder _was sitting on it. Though he was fearing the outcome of how Dean would take the news.

There was silence for a while, but it wasn't a disgusted or hateful one. It was more of a inquisitive silence, mixed with disbelief and a dash of hope thrown into it, like _why the hell not. _

And then Sam was on his back on the bed, and at first he thought that Dean had punched him in the jaw. But there was no pain, and with a start he realized that Dean had _pushed _him onto the bed, and said older brother was now looming above him with that smile on his face and desire glowing in his golden lion eyes.

Sam couldn't tell where his hands ended and Dean's began; all he knew was that they were touching anything that they could reach, and his skin felt as though someone was taking a brander to it and poking him with it everywhere. Dean's mouth was hot against his, and his neck, and his chest, and his thighs, and then- _oh. _

Sam's entire body arched up, his back cracking and his stomach flattening so much that his ribs were poking out of his sides vividly. Dean's mouth around him was like a volcano, and his tongue was like smooth velvet, and Sam told himself that if he died right there, right then, he would die the happiest he'd ever been.

He was gasping for breath almost the entire time, his chest burning the same degree of fahrenheit as his throat, but this time he was glad for the breathlessness.

The pain felt good in the consuming pleasure all over his body.

**+1. **

_Goddamn it Dean, where are you? _

Sam had been saying this for the past five minutes, and was slowly beginning to descend into madness as the seconds on his watch ticked by. They sounded like atomic bombs in his ears, each and every single one of them, and he was half tempted to run into the house after his brother though the very same person had told him not to.

_You're always taking the danger on by yourself when you can. You're such a dumbass. _

The ghost they'd been hunting had disappeared back into the house where it was grounded to, and Dean had told Sam to wait outside. Why? Sam didn't know at all. But he knew that the last time he'd gone against Dean's wishes they'd almost gotten killed, so he would wait until Dean was at that point before forgoing the demand and busting into the house like_ Men In Black_.

But that moment was coming up very rapidly, because he could hear Dean shouting and jumping around and slamming into things, and each grunt of pain was like a dagger in the back where the scar still was along Sam's spine. He could see Dean flinging the salt anywhere he could through the cracks in the walls, and the gasoline following shortly after, but it was still becoming more difficult than it should have been.

_That's because I'm not in there with him holding the ghost off. _

Sam berated himself for having a one on one convo with this head, and tried not to as he watched Dean flick open his Zippo lighter, igniting it with a flick of his thumb. His ears fell deaf as Dean dropped it onto the ground and the house immediately went up in flames, the ghost wailing and Dean fighting to get outside.

Sam watched with bated breath as the fire became worse, and Dean still couldn't make it outside. It was making Sam's tongue dry up in his mouth, and no amount of swallowing would fix it.

His breaths came out in short spurts as the roof and ceilings began caving in, and Dean still hadn't come outside, and god it would suck if Dean had gone down this way, in a fucking house fire, because that was the most ironic thing about their family _ever_-

But then just as the house crumbled in on itself, Dean flew out of the entrance and stumbled his way across the yard, coughing and cursing lightly at the house. He was covered head to toe in sweat and ash and dirt, but Sam still thought that he looked stunning.

Dean was alive, and he could finally breath again.

He took his first real gulp of air as Dean all but crashed into him, and Sam held him close, watching the house sinking to the ground in a pool of orange and yellow flames. Dean's panting felt like water after a long day in the sun against his neck, and Sam was almost afraid to let go of him.

Because Dean was reckless and an idiot and Sam wouldn't have him any other way because he loved Dean the way he was, but one day it was going to get him killed.

"You sound about as breathless as I do." Dean chuckled against him.

And Sam laughed back for what felt like the first time in months.

"That's because you're stupid."

_**xXxXxXx **_

_**I have no excuse for this. I've been watching Supernatural all day and I reblogged so much Wincest today and I've called so many people assbutts in my head, I just needed to write some Supernatural before I caved in on myself. **_

_**Now I'm off to watch some more haha ^_^ I hope you liked this garbage!**_


End file.
